


Brighter Spells

by Camelittle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy of Errors, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, Magic, Puns & Word Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7318882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New to London, and just out of school, Merlin really needs this magician job to work out. However terrifying Morgana is, it's really kind of her to give him this opportunity to work for tips at her party, and he’s got the sleight of hand thing down to a T. It's just a shame his patter needs work. And his temper. But then his first victim, er client, turns out to be a bit of a prat and he almost loses it completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brighter Spells

"...And this is my brother, Arthur," said Morgana. She had frighteningly smooth hair. Merlin couldn't stop looking at it. "He's a barista. Be nice, Arthur." She sashayed away, clutching a half-empty Martini glass. 

“Barista. Right. Um. So,” said Merlin, heart pumping fast, fanning out the cards, face down, into a neat almost-circle. “A posh one, too, I see! Ahahaha. Right, then, Alfred—”

“Arthur,” said the bloke, frowning.

His two companions nudged each other, chuckling.

“Arthur. Sorry, mate. Still working on my. You know. Spiel,” said Merlin, feeling heat creep up his neck. He moistened his lip, working his tongue round to the corner. “Um.”

This was Merlin's first real gig as a magician. A posh party, in a trendy part of Docklands. All monochrome and minimalist, with stunning views over the city. So, naturally he was nervous, even though he had been commissioned by a friend of a friend. Or rather, the daughter of the employer of a friend of his uncle. And it was true that he had been having trouble with developing his patter. In contrast, he had never had trouble with the sleight of hand thing, and indeed had natural advantages in that area. But patter took practice, and practice was what Gaius had promised him this evening.

But Morgana's brother, a granite-jawed Adonis of spectacular stuck-upness, wore a bored, pissed-off expression that made Merlin’s heart do flip-flops. If Merlin had one character flaw it was that blond-haired, uptight types filled him with the urge to turn round, bend over, and yell “take me now!” And when they were dressed in expensive-looking dinner-suits, made with the sort of arse-hugging material that beautifully sculpted those perfect glutes into curved handfuls, it was enough to turn any self-respecting hot-blooded gay boy’s head. Really. Rude, that was what it was. Gaius should have warned him. He would have worn looser trousers, if he had known. But as it was, all blood fled from his brain, leaving him unable to recall or articulate the simplest of scripts.

Blinking, he cast about for Gaius’s remembered advice. Instructions first, Merlin. Put the punter at ease. Then do the whole misdirection thing. Then, bingo! The payoff.

“Erm. Right.” He coughed, and inserted a finger under the neck of his purple, polka-dot shirt. Good start. “Ahem. Al—Arthur. Pick a card, any card. Don’t show it to me. Memorise it, and give it to me face down. No! Wait! Here, take this pen and write your name on it first.” He folded the cards back into a thick deck, and rummaged in his pocket for his sharpie. “Sorry. Can we start that again?”

“Where on Earth did Morgana find you?” said Alfr—Arthur, smirking round at his friends. “Some sort of cut-price fly-by agency? Morons Muck up Magic, perhaps? Pillocks do Prestidigitation?”

His mates sniggered behind their hands.

“Oh, very funny sir.” Oh, God, he’d only gone and found the party prat. Merlin laughed uproariously to disguise his resentment. “You should be the one doing the patter!”

But Alfr—Arthur took a playing card, cupping it in his palm, and stuck Merlin’s sharpie between his teeth to pull off the lid one-handed. While he was scribbling on the card, Merlin attempted to make conversation to lighten the mood. As per Gaius’s instructions.

“So,” Merlin said, wondering how to put the guy at ease. How had Morgana introduced him again? A barista, that’s right! “So. Erm. How long have you been a barista, Alf—Arthur?”

“Well,” Arthur said, standing up a little straighter and puffing out his chest as he offered the card back to Merlin, face down. “I was called to the bar at Lincoln’s Inn five years ago, when I was 23. Did my pupillage there, got my tenancy two years la— Watch out! You’ll set fire to my tie!”

Arthur took a step back in alarm, eyes widening as the card he’d selected and scribbled on went up in flames between Merlin’s fingers.

“How on earth did you—?” Arthur’s gaze was fixed on the fire that erupted from Merlin’s now-empty fingertips.

“Don’t panic, all under control,” said Merlin, with a graceful twist of his hands that quelled the fire. A collective gasp rose from the circle surrounding them, which had grown with the sudden burst of light. One of them even clapped. Merlin felt quite smug.

But, Jeez. For a bloody glorified coffee-maker, Arthur certainly was full of himself. Called to the bar? Pompous or what?

“This Lincoln’s Inn place - I haven’t heard of it,” said Merlin. “Is it a chain? Like Starbucks or something?”

“What?” The prat gaped at him. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Ah, right. Just some local pub with a coffee machine then. And really, two whole years later?” Merlin said, with a face-splitting grin, emboldened by his success. “Ha! Either you were really bad at it at first, or you’re a really slow learner. Still, after all that training, you must make really amazing coffee.” He felt quite gratified when one of Arthur’s two original companions started to laugh so hard that it made him cough.

Arthur himself, however, gave him a thin-lipped glare.

“You are quite prepost—”

“I expect you’re wondering what happened to the card,” interrupted Merlin. He cupped his left hand into a fist, and tapped it twice. “Abracadabra!” With a sharp, hissing exhale, he blew on his fist, turning it and opening to reveal a surprised-looking frog, which promptly jumped into Arthur’s pocket. The one that was already occupied by a very posh looking silk handkerchief, embroidered with a tiny golden dragon in one corner. “Oops! So sorry, let me get that out for you.”

“Please do,” said Arthur, eyes narrowing to little slits.

“Watch carefully!” said Merlin. Breathing hard, because this was the most difficult part of the trick, and the way that Arthur glaring at him certainly didn’t help, Merlin sprang forward and rummaged with trembling fingers in the pocket of Arthur’s admittedly very expensive-looking suit, withdrawing the missing playing card with a triumphant flourish. “Is this the card you wrote on?”

“Wait.” Still frowning, Arthur grabbed the card from him, turning it over and over, mouth open. “How on earth did you—?”

The now-tight circle around them applauded enthusiastically, and Merlin bowed low, grinning.

“He got you good there, mate,” said one, a guy with floppy hair. “Hey, Mr Magician, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I forgot to say! I’m Merlin,” he said, blowing extravagent kisses at them all as they clapped and cheered. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Merlin? Oh, for heaven’s sake, what a cliche,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

“That’s my actual name, you tosser!” said Merlin. “Of all the—”

“I see.” Arthur’s smirk had a decidedly nasty twist to it. “Well, clearly your mother or whoever lumbered you with that ridiculous moniker was deluded into thinking you had some talent, it’s a shame for her that you turned out to be such a witless buffoon.”

Stung, Merlin opened his mouth to retort. A small part of him was screaming at him to keep his trap shut, he needed this job, but his righteous anger was too much. He was just about to let the arrogant wanker have both barrels, when luckily someone clapped a hand on his back. It was the the other guy who’d come in with Arthur—looking very dapper, dressed all in white.

“Just ignore Arthur,” he said in a sympathetic tone, his breath tickling Merlin’s ear. “He’s not worth the aggro. I'm Elyan, and for what it’s worth, I think you’re fantastic, Merlin, and I love your act. Where did the frog go? I can’t wait to see what you’ll do next. Let me get you a drink.” He put his hand to the small of Merlin’s back, and started to steer him towards the kitchen.

“Maybe later, when I come off shift, that’d be grand, thanks!” said Merlin, responding to the inexorable tug of that hand. “Places to go, people to impress, you know.” His face fell. “Although that didn’t go as well as it could have.”

“Elyan’s right,” said someone else, the other one of Arthur’s companions, who had joined them. “Arthur can be a grade A tosser sometimes, especially lately... But he’s all right when you get to know him. I'm Gwaine, by the way. Now, there’s a group of ladies over there who are standing around looking awkward. I bet they’ll love you. And, by association, me!”

Sure enough, over by the large mirror stood a tense huddle of girls, darting demure glances over towards them as they walked. As they strode across, Merlin flashed a cheeky grin over his shoulder.

“Hey, Arthur,” he shouted. “If you want to make it up to me, mine’s a Venti Latte Grande with chocolate sprinkles!”

Although Arthur's only answer was a thunderous scowl, his lips twitched, all the same. 

*

The evening had been a fantastic success. By the time that Morgana swished by to thank him and tell him to stay and have a drink or two, two hundred of Her Majesty’s crisp pounds graced his rainbow wallet, safely ensconced in pocket of his yellow and blue checked trouser. And the very charming Elyan, who was some sort of hot-shot website designer, had introduced Merlin to about a dozen prospective new customers. So many, in fact, that he'd run out of business cards.

Plus, Elyan was a top guy who shared Merlin’s love of West End musicals. Together, they had escaped the melee into the kitchen, where Elyan had procured some chocolate flavoured cocktails from a secret stash, and they stood, merrily sipping and exchanging scandalous Michael Ball stories.

The cocktails had turned out to be deceptively potent. By now, three drinks in, Merlin was feeling decidedly mellow. He sent himself a silent reminder to make this the last one. It wouldn't do to lose control of his magic and accidentally set fire to Arthur’s dinner suit. Although the thought of Arthur running around trying to douse the flames suddenly erupting from his arse was undeniably attractive, questions would be asked, uncomfortable ones.

So, instead, Merlin focused on his current companion, who was rather adorable and very handsome, to boot. By dint of some delicate questioning, he decided, he would work out whether he was in with a chance or not.

“So, E—Els,” hiccupped Merlin, nudging his companion and looking him up and down. “What are you doing later?”

“Sorry, mate, I’m straight,” said Elyan bluntly, but with an apologetic smile that took the sting out of his words.

“Oops.” Hot mortification crept up Merlin’s cheeks. “Sorry. Thought I was being, you know. Subtle.”

“No worries, mate,” said Elyan, chuckling. “I’m flattered that a gorgeous bloke like you would be interested in me. I’d have thought Arthur was more your type.”

“What, that posh git you came in with?” said Merlin, blush deepening at being referred to as gorgeous. “I know his sort! Wouldn’t look twice at someone like me, even if he is only a barista!”

“Don’t be so down on yourself!” said Elyan. “Look at you in your purple polka-dots and your Rupert Bear trousers and silk. Not many people can pull off an outfit like that! Everyone else is all monochrome and effortless chic. Whereas you… you’re the most interesting person here by a long margin, and Arthur’s definitely intrigued by you.”

“Really?” Merlin didn’t quite know how to process this information.

“Oh yeah.” Elyan chuckled. “When you cheeked him, earlier? Definitely saw sparks fly there. And not just from the playing card.”

“His face.” Embarrassment calming now, Merlin laughed out loud. “I thought he was going to deck me one!”

“I’ve not seen him react that dramatically to someone for years,” said Elyan, laughing with him. “And that bit where you asked him if Lincoln's Inn is a chain - genius! Oh yeah, you’ve got under his skin all right. I think it’s been good for him, meeting you, already. He’s had a rough time recently. Now, how about another one of those cocktails?”

“All right!” said Merlin, grin stretching his face. “You’re on.”

It was about an hour, and several cocktails later when Merlin’s magic started to play up in earnest and he began to regret having quite such a generous slug of Tia Maria in his latest drink. Still, at least everyone else was in their cups as well. Hopefully they would think that the glowing butterflies were just one of Morgana’s more expensive special entertainments.

“You should have a web site,” Elyan was saying, earnestly. “And a YouTube channel. Post videos of yourself. You're amazing, Merlin. Really. And you could distribute merchandise…”

“That's not so easy, unfortunately.” Merlin sighed, bubble deflating slightly as he remembered the reality of the situation. “We're being sued, you see. Some weather agency has trademarked the _Brighter Spells_ company name, and we've had to take down all our online advertising, even though Gauis—he's my uncle, he's teaching me magi—er, conjuring, haha, anyway—has run the business for years. We've had threatening letters, and we can't afford to get a lawyer…”

“Really? How long has your company traded under the same name?” interrupted a new voice.

Merlin looked up. He hadn't noticed Arthur join their little huddle in the kitchen.

“Er – about thirty years?” he replied. “It would be a shame to lose it after all this time.”

“You should start invalidation proceedings,” said Arthur, frowning. “There is no way that sort of blatant bullying would ever get to court. They haven't got a leg to stand on.”

“Thanks,” said Merlin, surprised. “That's what I thought. But Gaius said we didn't have the money, and then he had his heart problem… It just seemed easier to give in. I mean, your health is more important, right? And I'm sure we could think of a new company name.”

“After thirty years? That's just unforgiveable,” said Arthur. “You’d lose all your brand value.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about this sort of thing,” said Merlin. “For a barista, I mean. Do they teach some sort of small company copyright law as part of your course?”

Arthur stared at him. 

"What?" Merlin glanced down at his shirt. "Have I spilt my cocktail or something?" 

To his surprise, Arthur burst out laughing. He looked younger, somehow, and a warmth stole across his face like the sun coming out. It was quite captivating. 

“Merlin, Merlin, Merlin.” Arthur shook his head. “You’re a wonder. I thought you were mocking me but... Do you even know what a barista does?”

“Of course!” Perplexed at the question, Merlin cocked his head on one side, his stance matching Arthur’s. “You grind the beans. Operate the machinery. That sort of thing. I’m not an expert, but I imagine there might be washing up involved as well. Oh, and towels! Wiping nozzles and such.” He nodded along with his words, getting into his stride, but stopped when he saw Arthur’s pursed-lipped expression and headshake. "Taking cash..." he trailed off.

“No!” Arthur held up a hand. “Let me stop you there. That, Merlin, is what a _bar_ -ista does.” Arthur drew out the first syllable in emphasis. “But I—I am a _ba_ -rrister. There is a difference.”

“You are?” Merlin bit his lip. Now that he came to think of it, Morgana had pronounced the word subtly differently when she had introduced him. He had thought it was just her accent. “There is?” 

“Indeed, said Arthur. "To put it briefly, I am a lawyer. And I put cases to judges and juries and such.”

“O-oh” said Merlin, crestfallen. The realisation was like dawn breaking. A damp, slightly drizzly dawn, with the prospect of heavy rain later, and no _Brighter Spells_ in sight. “That’ll be why the two years—”

“Yes, Merlin,” said Arthur, smiling lopsidedly. “And Lincoln’s Inn is one of the Inns of Court, not some seedy run-down tavern with a fancy coffee machine.” His face drew a little closer, head slanting to one side, so close that they were almost touching. Tiny hairs dusted his chiselled cheekbones, and golden lashes fanned out around his eyes. Light grooves stippled the rosy bow of his lips. All in all, a very fetching vision.

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin could just see Elyan sidling out of the room, and closing the door with a casual wave of his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” Merlin replied, with a minute answering tilt to his head. “I can’t believe I thought… I mean there you are in your perfect designer clothes and… I’m such a wally. I really didn’t reali—mfff!”

Transformational moments occur without thought, sometimes. One minute there’s a mundane stand-off between a smirking barrister and an embarrassed magician. The next minute, abracadabra! Such moments exist almost outside time.

A golden glow suffused the air as their mouths crashed together, warm flesh caressing warm flesh in a perfect sweet cadence that swelled and built like a major chord. When Merlin finally surfaced, dazed and flushed, he was jammed hard up against the work surface with Arthur’s body pressed to his in all the right places.

“So you don’t mind, then?” he said, biting his lip.

“Of course not,” purred Arthur, fitting their mouths back together again.

But that’s when the door burst open, and they sprang hastily apart.

“Arthur! Put Merlin down!” shrieked Morgana. “Come quickly! You’ve got to see this!”

With a vague sense of foreboding, Merlin followed the tug of Arthur’s hand. His nervousness deepened as they drew towards the window of Morgana’s apartment, with its dramatic skyline view over the Thames towards the City of London. For a moment, swirls of multi-hued, shining butterflies danced ecstatically outside the window, making crazy patterns that lit up the darkness with their shimmering wings.

Oh, dear. Merlin winced. Hastily, he snapped his fingers, and the insects suddenly winked out, leaving only a kaleidoscopic blur on his retina.

“Now what, for the love of Jesus, was that?” said Morgana, fixing Merlin with an accusing glare.

“All part of the service,” said Merlin, blinking at her innocently. He coughed. “You know. _Brighter Spells_ , to light up your life! It’s our company slogan. Light up your life, gettit?” Laughing nervously, he glanced sideways to check out the exits to the property, just in case.

“Well, aren’t you the miracle worker, Merlin,” drawled Morgana, lips lifting at one corner in a predatory smile. “My, my!”

“Erm!” said Merlin. At times like this, he felt some sympathy with deer and other poor animals, frozen in the glare of approaching headlights.She’d cottoned on! He’d been trying so hard not to let on about his magical powers, and here he was at his very first gig, giving the game away. Gaius would kill him. Desperate, he fumbled about for a convincing lie. “Not a miracle, no not really. It’s all part of my. You know. Technique. Mystique! That's it! And…” he would have floundered on, but she took pity on him.

“I don’t mean the magic, Merlin,” she said. “Although we can talk about that later…No.” Her gaze dropped to where Merlin’s hand was still grasped in Arthur’s. “I’m talking about my brother. I haven’t seen him engaged in a public display of affection since his pet rabbit died three years ago.”

“That will be all, Morgana,” said Arthur, firmly. But he didn’t drop his hand. “I have not been enjoying a particularly happy personal life of late, it is true. But now... “ he turned, a soft smile playing around his lips, which widened as he looked at Merlin. 

“Mmm?” said Merlin, heart thumping as he lifted an eyebrow.

“I think… I hope… there might be _Brighter Spells_ ahead,” said Arthur, firmly.

Darting forward, he kissed Merlin softly on the lips.

Far away, across the water, fireworks erupted in a shower of rainbow sparks.

*

*END*

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, I'm not getting paid.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art: "It's a kind of magic!"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8000362) by [LFB72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFB72/pseuds/LFB72)




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